(C)Tooluser September 2010
This story is fiction, and any resemblance to real people or places is entirely coincidental.
Hope you like it,
Tooluser.
I reckon these tight short-shorts are a blessin' and a curse, both. Know they done me a favor on the highway: why else would a guy pull over 'cept wanting to get his dick wet? When I looked in that pick-up and I seen it was Bill driving, I got real excited. Scared too.
Excited on account of I was gonna get another chance at him, and yeah: scared I was gonna mess up again. I was real antsy, and lookin' so hard I kinda stopped listening to what my mouth was sayin'.
My guts froze when I heard the word "stupid" come out my own dumb mouth. My body ducked real quick – it's kinda gotten smart, all of itself. Wish the rest of me had too. Then when he looked over I felt how he wanted to sex me some more, on account of these short shorts.
I was on that thought quicker'n a two-dollar trick! I bet if I'd been able to sex that pool-guy he'd've forgot about me being all marked up long enough for me to get a handle on how those achy inside-feelings worked. Wish I had, too, on account of the achy-feelings are a whole lot stronger with Bill. It's like sometimes when I look at him I forget to breathe, and my guts hurt and I get this real weird achyness and I want to bust out with that happy cryin' - only I don't on account of not wanting Bill to know I'm a psycho.
And then Bill, like, just ups and says did I want to eat breakfast with him, for free – and of course I got to get dumb again. Any other guy I'd've just said "sure," and if it was inside with him jawing at me, or outside with me blowin' him didn't make no difference. But with Bill, I really wanted it to be a nice time – like on TV, when it's all "what did you do in class?" and "have some more pie, honey," kind of like when Mom and Pop had to put the big act on for the Snoops, only without Duke getting beat on first.
I got real confused, because first seems like Bill, he don't want to, and then when I come over saying sorry he was like: he did like me and he did want to. I was feeling dizzy and freaky with the achy-feelings, and then he busts me one with the birthday thing, and while I'm still hurtin' he says he wants to gimme a present!
Mom used to get like that, only with her I could smell the booze and be ready for her to switch up: learned to play along real quick, too, so's not to get belted.
So I played along – real glad to see he was still horny, though I near lost it when he said about calling him "Uncle" and being family. I had to remind myself real sharp that he'd said it was only for pretending, and then the achy-crying thing quieted down enough I could chill and play along some more.
Thought everything was just dandy 'til that Jap fry-clerk hit on him, and I saw how Bill could just ditch me anytime for a way better deal, so I tried real hard to recall all I seen Raylene done workin' on guys and made sure to get in Bill's pants quick as I could.
And that's why I'm saying these short-shorts are a curse as well as a blessing, on account of I'm sitting here under the table tasting Bill's jizz way back on my tongue while I'm pulling in my belly and trying to get 'em done up again without major pain. And it ain't workin'.
"Hey angel – you okay down there?" His voice is all deep and tingly-making, and my fingers get clumsy again. I can't snap the waist closed, so I'm just gonna have to hope the zip holds.
"Yeah, I'm fine, uncle Bill," I say and that uncle thing's just giving me the shivers as I wriggle up onto the bench next to him. He's smiling at me with this real kind look. Okay, I know most guys look happy after I just buffed their helmet – what it's all about, ain't it? - but he's looking at me while he's smiling that smile and all of my insides are going, like, to jello.
So I pretend like my burger's the most important thing: grab it up, and take a big bite. Even though it's cold now, I get the juices start in my mouth and I hear him chuckle as I scarf it down, and then he's sliding his own plate in front of me.
"Sorry it's a bit messed around," he said, "but I had this cute little distraction. Just pick on anything you like, I'll be back in a few."
And he stands up and leaves me to go over to that cute Jap boy, who's gotten it bad, I can tell. I stab one of Bill's hash-browns so hard I bust the fork, and even though I'm still real hungry it all tastes like shit. He's over there a fuckin' age, and I can't see no more and everything inside hurts. But Bill just comes back with another tray, and when I manage to leave off giving the serving guy the once over, I see that Bill's brung juice, and coffee and apple and blueberry pies, and even ice-cream with busted up candy on it.
Bill ruffles my hair and sits down, and it turns out all of that stuff 'cept the coffee is for ME! So there, mister 'You-want-fries-with-my-ass?' cute distraction!
"Thought I'd say it with candy instead of flowers," Bill says.
I didn't have Clue One what he was sayin' so I just tried not to look dumb and thanked him.
He tried to act casual as he slipped his arm back round my shoulders, but I didn't care it was a bad act, on account of suddenly all his nice hard muscle chest was pressing against my back. I grabbed the ice-cream tub and held it against my lap but the cold didn't slow down my stiffie even a little bit.
"So," he said. "After this, you want me to run you home – or nearby?" I thought that was a funny way of putting it, but then he said: "Where exactly do you live, honey?"
Ice-cream hurts when you eat it fast, don't it? I gulped, upset that he'd forgot. "Next door to you!" I said, feeling all my insides cold.
"What? Really?"
He seemed real surprised: so surprised I wondered if maybe I hadn't said. Then I started wonderin' how he'd known to dump me over the fence if I hadn't told him. Maybe he'd done it often: maybe he'd, like, a whole load of boys what followed him around – he'd sure been cool enough when he'd found me bare-nekkid in his backyard, like he was used to it.
So I made sure to tell him how we'd just moved in, just so he'd know he couldn't dump any other boys over into our yard, but he just seemed happy and said how it explained about me havin' to go out for breakfast. I just said "Uh-huh," and ate ice-cream like I knew what he meant.
Well, I cleaned off that dessert tray in record time, and we slid out, getting ready to go. While Bill dumped the trash, I had a last try at buttoning my short-shorts, but I was too full.
Bill grinned when he saw, and said: "Letting out the belt, huh?" and then, "Hey, would your parents object if we brought them back some breakfast? I mean, since we're neighbors, now."
Once I got my jaw off of the floor, I said "sure." Dunno why Bill thought my folks would turn down free food.
Then my brain started working and I hurried along and followed Bill real close. I told Bill there was Mom and Pop and Raylene, but I didn't know if Duke was coming home today or later this week. I said to better get Deluxe Burgers on account of they heated up again real good, but all that yammerin' was just noise – all the time I was watchin' that cute server real close.
He was all smilin' and swishy and clumsy with the till, and I swear a couple times he drew breath in like he was gonna ask Bill something real difficult. But he kept looking at me, and I guess some part of Anything what you touch Bill with you ain't gettin' back got across, because he didn't say nothing.
So when he went to hand the carry-out sack to Bill, I just grabbed it off of him. Bill give me like, an odd look, but I just hung around while he paid, and then was careful to walk behind him out into the lot.
I peeked in the sack, and my guts all bunched up in my throat. Inside, on top of the burger cartons there was a paper napkin with, I guess, Can't-make-change-I'm-so-horny's name and a phone number writ on.
I reached in and snuck it out, and I would've just tossed it, only I just bet Bill would-a spotted me littering and picked it up. I daren't try squeezing it into one of my shorts pockets – the zip was only just holding and while being bare-assed around Bill was always nice, I reckoned embarrassing him in the parking lot would be majorly stupid.
So when Bill popped the locks on his pick-up and took the sack out of my arms, I tried to just fold the napkin into my hand and look like nothing was goin' on. It was only then I figured that if I'd just left the durned thing alone I could've tossed the napkin after he'd given the sack to my folks and gone. Sometimes I'm so dumb it hurts.
Anyhow, when we get in his pick-up, Bill's lookin' at me funny and I figure I better get myself ahead of the pack while I can. I just slipped that durned napkin out of sight under my butt, and brushed my fingers over my shorts' pocket, checking that the Essentials was still there.
Nervous? I was makin' that Jap server look like Mister Cool, but thinking about him moving in on Bill gimme a bit of balls, so I took a deep breath and done it.
* * *
Bill was still smiling as he came out of Freddie MacBurger's. It had been good to see Shayne eating: sitting next to a bottomless food-pit had reminded him so much of Jay at that age.
Since Jay left, Mary had never spoken of him: it was as if he'd been airbrushed out of her life. Bill wondered how much she was hurting, feeling oddly pained that he had no real idea any more. Since Jay left it had become increasingly clear to him that they'd never been a family of three: just two adults who shared a love of their son.
Mary and Jay had both loved dining at fancy restaurants. Personally, Bill still found them intimidating, but right from the start Jay had loved every aspect of it: dressing up; the display; the fancy food; the hovering waiters. Mary had loved playing the Grande Dame. He had to admit: those special occasions had been pretty special.
They usually had to stop for a hamburger on the way home: after working all day on site, a teaspoonful of vegetables and a piece of meat he could cover with two fingers left Bill hungrier than before. Jay had been the only person who could persuade Mary to set foot in a "fast-food salmonella hell." She had used to tease Jay about having a "laborer's stomach," and Jay had used to grin and say he wished he had laborer's arms and legs too.
Being slender wasn't the only way his son took after Mary. Like her, Jay had loved the theater, and the opera too. If for no other reason, Bill would have loved the boy for escorting Mary to all those evenings of interminable caterwauling so that he could spend his free time peacefully shaping wood.
Now all that was gone too: these days Mary only had time for the church, and the Prayer Action Group.
Bill unlocked the pick-up and then smiled at Shayne as he slipped the carry-out sack of burgers out of the boy's hands. It had been a good idea to grab breakfast for the kid's parents: an excuse to break the ice, though a little disturbing to see the looks Shayne had been giving the Asian fry-clerk. Bill found himself a little uncomfortable in the face of such prejudice, and resolved that – beautiful or not – this was an area where Shayne's attitude had to improve.
"Get in, angel," Bill said, pulling open the pick-up's door. He noticed the sack was open and wondered if Shayne had spotted the extra burger: he was sure the boy would be hungry again when he saw others eating. Oh, well – no need to spoil the surprise. Bill folded the sack closed and reached in to put it on the ledge that ran along behind the bench seat, then hurried around to the other side and slipped behind the wheel.
Of course when Jay had been sitting next to him, Bill hadn't had this overwhelming desire to caress his son, and if they caught each other's eye back then it would likely have resulted in a grin, a joke, or a shoulder-punch, not prickly goose-bumps up his back, a dry mouth and a tent in his pants.
Shayne was looking nervous and uncomfortable though, so Bill restricted himself to a smile and a wink. Bizarre to think that due to the boy's cleverness they'd been able to indulge in public sex, yet here in the parking lot a simple display of male-male affection was dangerous. He started the engine.
"Un, - uh, Bill: can we go to a place I know?" Shayne sounded nervous, and Bill glanced over, surprised.
"Sure, if you like." He had free time today: Bill was more than happy to be a taxi service if it meant more time with Shayne. "But don't forget the burgers, or they'll get cold."
Shayne smiled, though it looked like he was making an effort. "'S okay – pretty sure we got a microwave. And my folks ain't gonna be up yet anyhow."
They drove a little further into town, and at first Bill thought they were going to the mall. He was surprised when Shayne directed him toward the lower-class part of town, following signs to a trailer park, and then to a lot back of a seedy bar.
"Park over there, yeah?" Shayne said. "Next to the Prayer Pod, see?" He pointed at the low, arched shape.
Bill stared. He'd been with the group while the Prayer Pods were designed; they were based on the micro-skips that householders could hire for disposing of builder's rubble and suchlike garbage, but he'd never seen one actually deployed before. So much for making them discreet: the inspiring quotations were already obscured by clashing neon graffiti.
"What's this all about?" he asked.
"You said we could go somewhere private, for kissin' and stuff!" Shayne said. "You did, Bill! You promised!"
"So I did," Bill said, as he parked. "Though this lot looks quiet enough anyway."
Shayne shook his head, no. "In the pods is better. Red – he's my youngest brother, only he ain't home now – he told me a trick with gum what his girlfriend Vicky shown him. Makes it so the door don't pop open after ten minutes." He flipped the lock and swung the door open, allowing the fragrant morning air to flood into the car as he slid out. After a moment, Bill followed.
The inside of the pod was lined in two-tone vinyl. The upper half in a purplish-blue the color of the early dawn sky; the floor - padded comfortably enough for kneeling – in a serviceable earth brown. The space was cramped – intended as room enough for one adult, kneeling – and Bill found himself aware of Shayne's body heat close to him.
It was strange how the cramped space seemed to emphasize the difference in their size: kneeling there, Bill felt huge and clumsy as Shayne eeled past him, his jaws working, and then extracted a wad of gum.
"Somebody always leaves gum," Shayne said, reaching up to press half the wad against the upper corner of the low doorframe.
Bill watched, trying to ignore the sinking feeling. Shayne did seem to know how to work the place, and, glumly, Bill wondered quite how many guys his little angel had "entertained" in such places.
The kid was an operator, no doubt of that. Somehow, while Bill had fetched the burgers or something, Shayne had lined up his next client. When the boy had gotten out of the pick-up he'd seen the phone number scrawled on the napkin Shayne had been sitting on. He hoped the guy – this "Lee" - was okay: the thought of Shayne getting hurt was enough to moil his stomach. He'd been seriously tempted to pocket the napkin – as though that would somehow keep the boy safe! He'd hesitated, wanting to interfere but afraid of alienating his little friend. In the end he'd settled for flicking it onto the floor, hoping maybe Shayne would forget about it.
Well, Bill thought as the door hinged closed and the soft interior lights came up, he's with me right now, so the chance of him getting hurt is zero.
Sound whispered from the speakers, a low polyphonic chant he'd chosen himself. The ancient Latin soothed him: he smiled at the arguments he remembered from the group that such a choice was too "Papist." Finally, once Mary had re-stated his "if they don't understand it, then it won't distract them" argument using her ivy-league vocabulary, they'd agreed.
Shayne knelt down and spat another wad of gum into his palm. "Don't worry 'bout the sound-track," he said, as he squeezed the gum tight against the bottom corner of the frame. He looked back over his shoulder. "It's just kinda church rappin'. Duke says they used to get up and sing it in the night-time, so I guess it's for when they had scary dreams or bad rememberin'."
Kneeling close behind Shayne, Bill admired how the soft, cool light made the boy's skin gleam. His face was shadowed by his curls, his dark eyes serious, looking inward into night. Bill reached out and brushed his knuckle along the boy's cheekbone, feeling his heart lift at the little movement at the corner of Shayne's mouth.
"Well, you don't have to do any bad remembering right now, huh?" Bill said, stroking his free hand lightly down the boy's back. "It's okay Shayne," he said, concerned to find that the boy was trembling. Some of his clients must have been bad choices, he guessed, remembering the napkin. "We're not going to do anything you don't want to do."
Bill's arms ached, wanting to slip them around the boy and hold him close. He wished he dared lean closer, but kneeling so right behind the boy like this he was afraid it would seem predatory.
Shayne flashed him a nervous smile. "Whole lotta stuff I want to do, Bill." He swallowed. "You mean it – like for real? We can do cuddlin' first?"
First?
"Sure-" Bill began, and then it felt as though Shayne just melted against him, leaning back against his chest. Bill slid his arms around the boy. He kissed the back of Shayne's head, delighting in the feel of the soft hairs tickling his face. "You're so lovely," he whispered.
Shayne's body spasmed in his arms. "Ain't."
It felt like Shayne was trying to curl up into a ball, his small body abruptly a trembling knot of hardness against his chest.
Bill said nothing, just letting his gentle, stroking hands speak for him. He wasn't sure if Shayne was trying to press closer, or trying to push him away, so he didn't move: just let the boy feel the firm rock of him; his strength: that firm, male anchor that says lean on me.
Bill felt a faint, infinitesimal ghost of a relaxation; a feather-brush of something across all his nerve endings. "Hush," Bill said. "It's okay. I'm right here."
"G-guess you think I'm a f-freak, huh?"
"Yeah." Bill moved his arms, just a little: enough to remind the boy he was still held. "It's okay – everybody's a freak, sometimes."
Shayne snorted an impatient noise of disagreement.
"It's true," Bill said. "Everybody. I'm a freak about heights, myself. I get clammy chills at work, if I have to climb scaffolding above second story. It's totally stupid: I mean, I can be safety-tied every damn' which-way and I'm still a danger on site. Only got half my mind on the job; the other half busy trying not to lose my lunch."
"Yeah? You ever, like, hurled?"
"Yeah, a bunch of times. The guys call me 'Dollar'. Can't think why," Bill said.
Shayne turned his head and looked up at him, one eyebrow climbing. "You cain't guess?"
"Uh-uh." Bill smiled to himself. "No idea," he said, his best poker face on.
"'S 'cos it's green, and then you go green, and then – BLAAARGGHH!" Shayne said, pantomiming. His eyes narrowed. "You're fakin' me! I bet you just did know!"
"Yeah," Bill said, laughing. "Took me a couple of days, though."
"Huh." Shayne gave him a small smile and then twisted around so he was facing the man: he wrapped his arms around Bill's neck and leaned close. "Can we do kissing now?" he said, a little note of pleading in his voice.
Bill caught the scent of breath-mint. "Sure," he said.
It's possible that a boy's lips are the softest things in creation. Certainly Shayne's felt so. Glossy smooth teeth and then the warmth of a little mouth and excited boy-tongue, teasing.
Bill's hands seemed to move of themselves, stroking up the boy's bare back, beneath his baggy, ripped t-shirt. He ran his fingers lightly over the ridges that Shayne's spine and ribs made beneath his silky skin.
Shayne leaned against him, surprisingly heavy, pushing him backward, down onto the floor, wriggling his small body against him.
Bill wanted to cradle the boy's head, but his hands were still tangled beneath the baggy top, so he had to use his own lips, his pleading tongue, every inch of his body he could press up against the squirming, delightful boy, stroking his smooth skin.
Not that Shayne was passive – he pressed down, bruisingly hard, his tongue squirming, thrusting into Bill's mouth as he kissed him back with equal ardor, wriggling on top of him.
Bill slid his hands down and felt Shayne spread his knees as they broke the kiss, panting.
"Bill, I gotta-" Shayne lifted one hip and reached beneath himself. "Tingles-" There was a brief, explosive zipper sound. "Ow-"
"You okay?"
"Yeah." Shayne lifted himself up enough that Bill could see his hotpants fully unzipped, revealing the top half of a lovely little stiffie. "Can I take 'em off, Bill? Huh?"
Bill shrugged. "You're the wad-of-gum expert."
"Yeah!" Shayne reared up, astride him, and high-punched the air, grinning. "Ree-sult!"
Bill didn't think he'd ever see anything more erotic than Shayne wriggling out of those tight hot-pants. It wasn't just the way that they clung to him like a second skin, or the way that the baggy t-shirt flopped; gaping open one moment to offer a glimpse of smooth boy-chest or lean stomach. Part of it was the gradual reveal of the tantalizing curves of the boy's ass: a white stripe across his small, golden body; his firm young cheeks lovely in themselves but also parting to offer intimate glimpses of heaven. The surprising part was the sheer affection Bill felt as Shayne cussed the reluctant denim down over his butt – that and a growing respect for the size of the kid's vocabulary.
By the time the frustrated boy had tossed them into the corner, Bill had an aching hardon of mammoth proportions. Shayne, of course, immediately noticed and after a single "pretty please!" Bill succumbed and let the excited boy undress him, wondering that Shayne should be so delighted.
"D'you think I should take off my tee-shirt too?" Shayne asked, once Bill was naked from the waist down, his clothes neatly folded and laid by. He wasn't sure whether the extra care Shayne took with Bill's clothes was some kind of respect, or whether it just gave Shayne extra opportunities to flaunt his cute little tushie.
It certainly was a little peach of an ass: a white melon-wedge against the boy's honey-golden skin. Lean little cheeks that peeked open a little even when the boy stood. When he knelt, his little pink rosebud peeked shyly out from between those snow-white little boy-mounds. When he bent right over Bill could glimpse Shayne's sweet little nut-pouch, and more and more he found himself imagining kissing the wrinkled skin and tongue-teasing all the smooth, firm flesh out on display.
Bill coughed, aware of how increasingly hard his cock felt. "Um-"
Shayne looked round, his whole face one wicked grin. "Can I suck you first, Un-, uh, Bill?"
"First?"
"Before you fuck me – it's okay!" Shayne added, his little face suddenly anxious, "-I got rubbers in my shorts so you'll be okay!" He crawled over and grabbed up his shorts, then pulled out several foil packets. "See? Only you gotta go slow up my ass and I reckon you're gonna nut pretty soon."
It was the matter-of-fact assessment of Bill's state of excitement as much as the multicolored packets gleaming in the boy's hand that reminded him the boy was no novice.
Shayne leaned back against the padded side wall. He was small enough that he could stretch his legs out completely across the width of the prayer pod. "If you wanna come kneel over me, you can kinda hump my mouth while I'm suckin', yeah?" he said, playing with his little stiffie. "That's real hot. You want to?"
Bill cleared his throat. "Yeah," he said. It felt like his cock got an inch bigger, and the tingle along its length told him how right Shayne was – he'd better hurry if he didn't want to spend time sponging his cum off the walls. Hastily he sat up, edged over to where the boy was, and knelt astride his hips.
"Reckon you're right," he said, ruffling Shayne's hair. His cock was an enormous, throbbing pole, the glistening crown a bare inch from the boy's face.
He smiled as Shayne looked up at him, seeing the the pink tip of the boy's tongue caress the cushion of his underlip.
"I don't think I've ever gotten so horny so quick as when you were flashing your cute little butt," Bill said.
Shayne bit his lip, seeming oddly shy for a moment. "You liked my heiney? It ain't too skinny?"
"It's perfect – the most lovely boy's butt I've ever seen."
"Nyah." Shayne looked down, and then stroked Bill's cock, sliding his hand down to cup his balls. "You're real nice, you know – furry, an' all big." His little fingers teased through Bill's pubes and then he wrapped his warm fingers around the hard shaft.
Bill watched as Shayne leaned closer, his mouth opening like a baby bird's. His breath on Bill's cock-head was warm, his lips a caress.
It was just so sexy the way the boy nursed at his cock, slipping his lips back and forth over the shiny head. Why had he never noticed how long Shayne's eyelashes were, before? He brushed the boy's curls back off his forehead, and Shayne took him deeper, the warmth of his mouth as exciting as the sight of his big, hard cock sliding in between the boy's wide-stretched lips – god! Even Shayne's cute little nose was sexy; he loved the way the boy wrinkled it.
Shayne leaned back, his grip on Bill's cock urging him to follow. Bill shuffled forward on his knees, and rested his forearms against the wall. Looking down, he found the boy had all but disappeared into his shadow, becoming a sketch of golden highlights and a blue white gleam beneath his eyes as he looked up.
Bill pushed forward into the wet warmth, carefully, knowing the boy couldn't take his entire cock, although Shayne seemed determined to try: he could feel Shayne leaning forward again, vacuuming his hot, slippery little mouth down Bill's aching hard rod and up again.
"Oh! Oh – Shayne, yes!" Bill groaned, pushing deeper until he heard his playmate cough. He pulled back, and then in again, setting up a gentle, though increasingly horny rhythm. God! Shayne was so good he felt he could just close his eyes and see that slick little tongue as it rubbed and teased the hard man-meat filling his mouth; see Shayne's pretty, white little teeth as his hard cock slid past them.
Bill felt a rush of affectionate lust: Shayne was so vulnerable, so trusting. For the first time Bill was conscious of their disproportionate strength. He truly could do anything he chose. He smiled.
"You like sucking cock, don't you, boy?" he murmured. It was so lovely; it felt so right to be kneeling here, pushing his hard cock in and out of Shayne's lovely mouth. He sped the pace a little, imagining Shayne learning on other hard, veiney cocks: just a little more, that's a good boy – oh yeah.
He could feel the boy's hands on his butt, squeezing, urging him on. He reached down, and stroked the boy's ear; his neck. He felt the boy's throat move and -
Oh! Swallowing! Bill moaned again as Shayne's slippery mouth worked his oversensitive, aching cock: any moment now; it was inevitable -
"Aaaah!" Bill pushed deep, feeling his cock spurt; he made himself pull back; scared of hurting Shayne.
The boy let his spurting cock go; it slapped upward, the pulsing spurt of his jism splattering across Shayne's pretty face: white on golden skin.
"Sorry -" Bill gasped as he came again, hard, shooting a rope of white across the boy's nose. Shayne grabbed his cock again and licked at his still pulsing slit, coating his tongue and lips with glossy white. He smiled up at Bill along his lashes.
"Told ya you were gonna nut," Shayne said. "You gonna fuck me now?"
* * *
Hope you enjoyed that!
Tooluser
Comments, feedback and constructive criticism welcomed. Flames ignored.
tooluser@hushmail.com